


Constellation Observations

by my_happy_little_bean



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Eventual Logic | Logan Sanders / Creativity | Roman Sanders, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Just soft bois bein soft, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Logince - Freeform, M/M, Some angst on both ends lol, logan/roman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24482341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_happy_little_bean/pseuds/my_happy_little_bean
Summary: Logan begins to write a series of observations to learn more about Roman; and as he does, he grows to understand his universe (and perhaps falls in love with it too).
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 30
Kudos: 169





	Constellation Observations

**Author's Note:**

> a/n - somehow, reading stuff by sign_from_god_complex (@sign-from-god-complex on tumblr) inspired me to go out of my comfort zone and write some logince fluff. it’s not the most revolutionary logince content out there, but it out here :p plus i wrote this whilst lying down in my backyard again so consider this my way of giving you a piece of my good day :”) also i am still trying to figure out the next golden slumbers chapter so i needed to give my brain a break :pp
> 
> enjoy!

_**Observation #1:** Roman always picks at the grass in the Imagination, even if he is the one who grows it. Reasons for the needless destruction of his own creation remain unclear at the moment. _

_-_

Perhaps it was because he was exhausted beyond belief,   
but Logan just couldn’t stop staring at Roman. 

Logan had his notebook in his lap like he always did; though this time, he was sitting on the grass of the Imagination, not in his desk chair. It was late at night as well, maybe 2:30 AM. However, the stars in the sky flickered in a way that made Logan believe in the possibility of a timeless day.

It did not surprise Logan that he was still awake, given all the work that had to be completed. Thomas’ work schedule for the week was impacted by a rather unwelcome last-minute change, so Logan, of course, had to take a figurative evening shift.

What surprised Logan was that Roman was awake too. 

It seemed as though it was going to be a sleepless night for both of them. Roman brushed off his presence in front of the coffee machine as nothing; a mere necessity in light of the new change. Though in hindsight, Logan knew more. The shift in schedule was a result of a production issue, which meant that the idea had to be re-worked. So of course Roman would be awake.

Roman, ever so kind of him, hence decided that Logan’s presence in the kitchen was a ‘sign from the heavens’ that he needed company (when really, it was just the result of Logan needing a refill). He then brewed coffee for the both of them and invited Logan to spend the night in the Imagination. 

Logan would never admit it, but he was always intrigued by the Imagination. It was almost like Roman’s secluded workplace, separate from the Mind Palace and the rest of the sides. Not many of them ever really thought it was worth the visit; after all, they all had their own responsibilities, and the Imagination was simply Roman’s. However, Logan’s curiosity couldn’t help but lunge at any opportunity to visit; and while he knew none of it was real, he always left feeling rather awakened and _alive_.

So that was how he found himself sitting on a grassy hill in the Imagination, with Roman beside him, lying down on his stomach with his elbows propping him up slightly. Logan hadn’t touched his notebook in what felt like hours, only lifting it to mask a yawn. Roman, however, appeared to be busy picking at the grass below him. 

“Do you have nothing productive to be doing right now?” Logan said, breaking the silence between the two. “Thomas needs a new idea before his friends arrive in the afternoon for shooting the revised takes of his video.” A pause. Logan added hesitantly, “I believe I cannot continue without your final verdict.” 

“Aww, you can just say you _need_ me, Erlenmeyer _trash!_ ” Roman said in a pouty voice; one that made Logan tear his eyes away from the dramatic sight. Determined to be seen, he rolled over onto Logan’s lap, flinging his hand onto his forehead. “Just say that you need me like one needs the air above – that you need me like one needs the ocean and all that it bears– Logan! _Just tell me you can’t live without me!”_

A beat of, quite frankly, unapproved silence. Logan just scoffed. 

“That is _obviously_ not the case.”

Roman rolled his eyes, but kept his energy steady.

“Anyway, I’m workin’ on it!” he exclaimed defensively, yet Logan couldn’t find it in himself to believe him. After all, Roman wasn’t even _looking_ at him. 

Instead, he rolled over to a patch of grass further away from Logan, landing in the same position as before. He then lowered himself ever-so-slightly, the grass nearly grazing his nose, before slowly plucking an individual piece of grass from the ground. 

Logan sighed. “Roman, I do not see how your inefficient gardening tactics reflect that you are ‘working on it’.”

Roman looked up at him dramatically, his eyes narrowing at him. 

“I’m rewiring his _brain_ , Logan.”

Logan placed the blame for what happened next entirely on his sleep-deprivation. He blinked, the words registering in his mind. Roman, not breaking eye contact with Logan, then placed the single strand of grass in a patch not too far away from where it originally grew. Logan watched in some kind of twisted horror as the grass straightened in its new place, then moved in the same way the rest of the grass did. 

“Are we–” He stood up frantically, grabbing his tie. His next words come out as a hushed whisper. “Is this Thomas’...”

A wide, pearly grin. “Figuratively, Specs.”

His eyes widened, staring at the grass he once sat on. If the grass—and hence, the Imagination—was a mere representation of Thomas’ brain, that meant– well that meant he was sitting on Thomas’ _mind_. The breakthrough, no matter how revolutionary, was utterly _horrifying_. What if he had stepped on an important synapse, damaging it permanently? What if that rock he idly kicked on the way to this hill represented a part of Thomas so essential to his development? What if–

Suddenly, Roman broke into loud, hyena-esque laughter. Logan stared at him, his eyes blown wide with fear when it suddenly hit him. 

Logan took a deep breath and resumed his place on the grass slowly, adjusting his glasses. 

“Now is not the time for falsehoods.”

Roman wiped a tear that was probably just for show. “Oh come on, Oscar the Protractor-Pouch; it was really funny.”

“Not in the _slightest_.” 

(Logan would never admit it, but he found it a _little_ amusing. An infinitesimal amount, some might say. At least, in its execution; not its purpose. It was because he was tired though, nothing more.)

“Besides, we needed something to wake both of us up,” Roman said, swiftly rolling back to Logan’s side. He softly bumped against Logan’s knee. 

It was flawed logic, but Logan could appreciate that the logic was at least there. 

Logan lifted his pencil from his ear to resume writing—or at least, to resume his attempts at writing—then paused. 

“What _were_ you doing, then?” he asked, looking down at Roman. He shrugged.

“I noticed some grass that was out of place.”

He said that as if it were obvious. 

Logan continued to stare at Roman, who was still picking at grass absentmindedly. He stared at Roman while he bouncing some possible ideas off of him. And while Logan contributed a great deal to their conversation, he couldn’t quite focus on anything else other than the clear image of Roman.

Roman, whose creation was so vast yet so meticulous; whose attention to detail was almost too impressive to be true. Roman, his companion with a work attitude and ethic that bewildered Logan to great extents. Roman, who worked so hard for so long on a job Logan dismissed as something that could be done in one’s sleep. Roman who, Logan suddenly realized, didn’t sleep much at all. 

And that was when Logan truly saw Roman for the first time,   
under the stars and on the carefully-crafted grass of the Imagination.

So, naturally, he wrote the observation down in his notebook to possibly revisit later.

* * *

_**Observation #12:** When Roman is upset, he runs his hand through his hair; and he does so as if no one else could notice._

-

“You are not listening to me, Roman.” 

“Uh, I don’t think I like what you’re saying, which means I’m _probably_ wasting some brain cells listening to you, Sir- _Nerds_ -A-Lot!”

“That is _not_ my name. And that is _not_ how brain cells work. You would know that if you were actually _listening to me._ ”

Roman huffed, running a hand through his hair. He threw his head back, as if motioning at the ceiling to come watch yet another one of their disagreements unfold. 

As much as he didn’t bother himself with feeling, Logan couldn’t help but feel bad for Thomas, who was standing helplessly in between their quarrel. It was always like this when it was just the two of them; Virgil nor Patton being present to mediate the situation. 

He could possibly stretch this illogical guilt to Roman as well. He had not meant to anger the other side, but he just couldn’t help it. He was frustrated with his behaviour, how he was talking as if he– and hence, Thomas– were invincible. It was reckless, it was foolish, it was...well, _stupid_.

Still, Logan knew now where the figurative line had to be drawn. It didn’t take many arguments with Roman for him to recognize when his anger reached a point that was impossible to work with.

Logan took a deep breath, adjusting his tie. 

“Okay. I see now that we are at a figurative crossroad with this discussion,” he said as cooly as he could. “Perhaps we should take a break.”

Thomas blew out a sigh of relief, throwing his hands up in the air. 

_“Thank you!”_ he cried out, already moving past Logan and towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna get a glass of water.”

“Yes, yes.” Logan noted the way Roman scrambled to pick up his own sanity as he spoke. “Let’s all take five.” He eyed Logan. “Even dunces need breaks between their...their _dunce-ing.”_

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, letting a bit of his own frustration slip. 

“You are one to talk.”

Roman tilted his head at him. “Oh really?” 

_Shit_. Logan pushed his glasses up, trying to maintain his composure. 

“You are burned out, Roman,” Logan carefully said. “That is to say, you have overworked yourself not only in this conversation, but in your work in general. Therefore, it is not illogical to conclude that your burn-out is one possible reason why you are lashing out at me.”

Roman’s eyes went wide. “What are you–”

“Which is why we can resume talking about this matter at a later date. After all, you are not thinking logically. You are dismissing Thomas’ well-being for the sake of work, you are stressing him out to immeasurable extents — this isn’t you.”

_“What do you know about me?!”_

Logan blinked. Roman looked as if he was frozen in time, still lunged forward at him. Despite the distance, Logan could see the darkened rings under his eyes.

He didn’t answer Roman’s question for a while. It was most likely rhetorical, but even if it wasn’t, he didn’t know how to respond. After all, twelve recorded observations and a whole _lifetime_ with Roman didn’t help Logan truly understand him.

But as he stared at Roman, who was surely close to tears,   
he couldn’t shake the familiar pang in his chest. 

Through the glassy space between them was a reflection.

“I know myself,” Logan responded quietly. “It’s...it’s not good for anyone, Roman.”

It was quiet between them for a while. Roman drew himself back slowly, as if burnt by his words; and for a split second, Logan feared he had said the wrong thing. 

Then, Roman wordlessly nodded at him. His stare burrowing through him like a bullet through a mirror. Before Logan could say anything else, he sunk out before Thomas returned, leaving Logan to conclude their discussion alone. His fear faded into a slight buzz in his chest.

(His tripedations were later reassured when he found Roman sleeping in front of the TV in the Mind Palace, _Moana_ playing hazily in the background. 

Logan sat beside him, stared at him for a bit, and then pulled out his notebook. He wrote something about the way Roman slept— _peaceful, despite the storm behind his eyelids_ —before slowly nodding off as well.)

* * *

_**Observation #56** : When Roman sings to Virgil, he does so by changing the song to fit a minor key. To Patton, he mostly sings him songs in C major. To himself, it varies. Perhaps he’s just practicing._

-

It was a hard day for Logan, and it was a long day for anyone else. When logic ran itself thin, there wasn’t much for Thomas to do other than wallow alone in his bed. 

Logan felt Virgil and Patton on his skin all day, clouding his logical reasoning until it was barely there. It made Logan feel stupid and helpless; like he was some kind of joke.

On days like this, Roman was surprisingly the figurative glue of the group. He would visit Virgil’s room first and listen to his worries, helping him channel his emotions into poetry and songs. Then, he’d bring Patton cookies and watch home-videos with him until Patton felt comfortable moving on. 

And Logan wasn’t sure why Roman bothered to visit him, but he did.

They couldn’t say much in Logan’s room, so they played along with the unspoken laws of his space and thought quietly to themselves instead. Roman was the only other side who understood why Logan’s room was mostly quiet; or at least was the only one to accept it. When no one talked, there was the smallest amount of room for subjectivity of any sorts.

Logan liked to think Roman found the idea clever; but judging by the way Roman looked at him with those eyes resembling that of a small puppy, Logan realized that he just found it sad.

Still, Logan’s room seemed to accept Roman’s classical music. 

(So did Logan.)

At one point, Roman nudged his head to the bookshelf in Logan’s room, seemingly asking for a recommendation. The two leave his room with a few books in hand and smiles bigger than they initially were; Roman’s brighter, and Logan’s now there.

They make their way to the Imagination where Logan now spent a lot of his free time. Roman didn’t even need to extend an invitation anymore; all he had to do was stand in Logan’s doorway and nod at him. Then, Logan would conjure up a new notebook and follow suit. 

(Logan found it strange how Roman didn’t notice the piles of notebooks labelled ‘Observations of the Imagination’. Or if he did, he made an effort not to pay attention to that corner of the room.)

(Logan was also relieved he kept his own personal notebook close, yet out of sight.)

It was halfway through Roman’s dramatic reading of “A Brief History of Time” when Logan broke into sobs. It was spontaneous and cruel that the tears couldn’t will themselves out of existence– that they even existed in the first place– but Roman didn’t seem to mind. 

He didn’t mind how Logan ranted about how illogical it was that he was crying, or how illogical it was that Thomas felt like he had nothing when he had _everything_. He didn’t mind how Logan cursed at himself for two minutes straight in an indecipherable mess of the English language. He didn’t mind that Logan called himself ‘faulty’ and ‘broken’ (but he did frown sadly).

And he didn’t mind when Logan laid his head on his shoulder, so drained from the sudden burst of emotion that he couldn’t lift himself up anymore.

“You need to do that more, Specs,” he murmured when enough silence had passed. He took Logan’s hand into his own and rubbed it gently with his thumb. 

“Do what more?” Logan scoffed, his voice hoarse from the strain. “Talk illogically?”

Roman laughed, pressing a kiss to Logan’s hair. 

“ _Please_.” Logan’s breath hitched at the sincerity. “I promise I’ll try to listen.”

Neither of them mentioned the kiss for the rest of the night because Roman started singing before Logan even had the chance to question its occurrence.

And when Roman sang to Logan,  
the key didn’t matter at all. 

What mattered more was the sound. It couldn’t be contained by terminology, but rather by how it danced in the air that hung above them before it was carried off by the wind. His voice ran across his skin through goosebumps, as if someone wrapped Logan in velvet sheets. It sifted seamlessly through each verse, smooth as caramel and filled with its sweet, sugary taste.

Roman cared for the song just as much as he cared for his creation. He picked at each note like a strand of grass, as if carefully pressing them into imaginary sheet music in the dirt.

Logan would never be able to find the words because he kept going back to the same one:

_Beautiful,  
beautiful,   
beautiful._

And for a split second, the clouds in his mind parted,   
and the conclusion he reached seemed crystal clear. 

Roman was _beautiful_.

* * *

_**Observation #92:** It has been decided that these observations no longer apply to a person, but rather to a constellation. Evidence for this conclusion can be found in the freckles around his nose; or in his bright, shiny smile; or in the fact that his spirit, if those were to exist, simply housed a million, trillion stars – an entire universe, one might say. _

_At least, that is what it feels like nowadays._

-

Logan only understood love once he understood Roman. 

Roman was fire, burning and warm. At one point, Logan had no problem describing Roman as his own personal hell – though at this point, that conclusion wasn’t even that far off.

Because it hurt sometimes to look at Roman; to see him laugh with the others in a dazzling display of light and sound. It hurt to see him surrounded by love Logan wasn’t able to pick apart and understand, let alone reflect. 

He wasn’t broken. Roman made him understand that all too well. 

But he was incomplete; and it didn’t take long for Logan to realize what he was missing.

There was a hypothetical theory called space dementia; where astronauts in orbit become so entranced by the immense vastness of space that they grow obsessed with its beauty. 

And while there wasn’t much research done on the subject,   
Logan knew that his heart pulled towards the sight of Roman.

Roman was unlike anything Logan had ever seen or felt before. He was a million stars all wrapped up in a cluster in his chest, a vessel for something far more beautiful than this world deserved. 

Perhaps that was why he held himself so tightly on the nights they would spend sleeping in the Imagination together _(Observation #45)._ Perhaps it was because he was holding onto that cluster so tight; tight enough that no stars would escape. After all, the tiniest of disturbances would cause the whole universe to fall apart. He was as delicate as the velvet skies they laid under, yet burned so brightly when given the chance.

And when Roman showed him even a glimpse of his creation,   
Logan was, for lack of a better word, _star-struck._

The piece Logan was missing took the form of a star, its edges worn and old as time itself. And it shot itself across the sky every night, as if flinging itself in their direction.

There was no set definition for what it was because Roman changed it every day. However, the idea remained the same.

Logan was missing Roman’s love. 

“How long have you known?” Roman whispered as they stood on their hill, the Imagination stretching far beyond them.

“I do not know,” Logan replied, though the word ‘forever’ rests on his tongue. He took a step forward and grabbed Roman’s hands. “But I came to my realizations not too long ago. I decided that it would be illogical for me to hide this information from you, so I have decided to tell you now. I hope this does not change things.” A pause. “At least, changes them negatively.”

“Logan…” Roman’s eyes looked so soft. It made Logan’s heart ache and made him vow to love Roman as passionately as he could, if given the chance.

“I know it does not make much sense that I can harbour such a feeling but I...I do.” He mustered up a smile. “I love you.”

“You can feel, nerd,” Roman giggled, taking a step closer towards Logan as well. His forehead pressed against his, and the tips of their noses grazed each other’s. 

He was so close. Logan’s skin caught on fire as Roman cupped his cheek, his other arm holding him tightly around his waist. 

“I love how you feel,” Roman murmured. Logan’s breath hitched at the words. _“And I love you too.”_

-

_**Observation #93:** There will never truly be enough words capable of describing the feeling of kissing Roman. But one thing is for certain._

_He is air and he is light,  
_ _and he is the missing piece._

_After all, his lips fit almost perfectly._

_(Though further experimentation is necessary in order to reach a solid conclusion.)_

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


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